For the complete series, click here.

N brought a baggy sweater and sweatpants for me. A bathrobe for M.

M sits on one side of the table. N and I on the other. M picks a bottle off the ground and holds it to his eye.

“Hair of the dog?” he asks.

N and I give him a parental look. He hangs his head. Then, with his other hand he pulls a clump of Belly’s loose dog fur off the bench beside him. He holds it up.

“Hair of the dog?”

N laughs. I glare at him. He stops. M lets the hair fall back onto the bench.

“You need to stop with the magic.”

“I agree,” N puts in, playing supportive uncle to my single mother.

M nods.

“We need to call that pirate—“

“Magician,” M says.

“Pirate Magician,” I say, firmly. “He can come and fix all of this. Do you know his number?”

M nods. I hand him the phone.

“You need to call him and get him to fix this mess.”

M dials a number on my phone. He says a few things in Russian and frowns. He hands the phone across to N.

“It’s a woman, she is speaking too fast.”

N takes the phone and chats for a bit while M and I decide, silently, polishing off the whiskey is a good plan after all.

N hangs up the phone. He gives us a morbid look.

“He’s dead.”

“What happened?” M and I ask simultaneously.

N starts smiling. He fixes a serious expression.

“I guess he had a party, and, he fell from the balcony of his fifth story apartment.”

“Ouch,” M says.

“Yeah,” N continues, “well, he didn’t die then, actually, he stood right up and told the guests to throw his accordion down to him so he could play them a song, to celebrate, so, they did, and well,” N pauses.


“Well, it fell on his head and killed him,” N finishes.

I start to laugh but shake it off in time to not feel too guilty. I turn and give M a stern look.


M whistles. “Man, that is some bad luck.”

“Yeah,” I say, “see where this goes?”

M nods. He looks down at his hands, solemn. Then, his face lights up.

“Wait, I know!” he cries.

He snaps his fingers.

“NO!” I cry. N and I both lunge at him. We each grab an arm. There is a pop in the center of the kitchen. We all turn. The Pirate Magician stands there, looking puzzled.

He walks over to us. He bends down and gives my ear a curious look.

“Ah!” He reaches behind my ear. He straightens up, dangling my other blue-checkered sock in front of us.

He drops it on the table.

“Abrah-Kadabrah!” he cries, laughs, then vanishes.


Author Benjamin Davis and artist Nikita Klimov created one story and one picture each day for one year. In May 2018 they published their first book, The King of FU

9 Comment on “M is for Magic

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